


Eyes on the Road, Hands on the Wheel

by Chiyume



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Play, Anal Sex, Angel Castiel, Angel Powers, Bottom Dean, Car Impala, Car Sex, Destiel - Freeform, Dom Castiel, Dom/sub Undertones, Driving, Driving Lessons, Grace Kink, Impala, Impala Sex, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Power Bottom Dean, Rain, Riding, Sex in a Car, Sex in the Impala, Sub Dean, Sub Dean Winchester, Top Castiel, dom Cas, grace aided sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-04
Updated: 2016-02-04
Packaged: 2018-05-18 05:08:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,895
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5899393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chiyume/pseuds/Chiyume
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After being nagged into it by his brother, Dean takes on the task of teaching Castiel how to drive; a task that turns out to be harder to accomplish than one would have thought since neither Cas nor Dean seems capable of watching the road... </p>
<p>Inspired by Supernatural episode 5x04 along with a presumably deleted scene that I cannot seem to find again sadly…</p>
            </blockquote>





	Eyes on the Road, Hands on the Wheel

**Author's Note:**

> A re-written version of an old story which can still be found on FF.net posted under the same username.

* * *

  


”Okay, so let’s go through this, one more time.”

Castiel nodded, clasping both hands firmly around the wheel, an uncharacteristically nervous, yet terribly focused expression on his face. It was a look Dean hadn’t seen on him since the time the angel had tried to comprehend the usage of Sam’s iPad; an attempt which had not ended very well, to Sam’s dismay. Dean sighed, sincerely hoping that this educational session would have a different ending, then he licked his lips and gestured towards the angel’s whitening knuckles.

“First off: the car’s not your enemy, so ease up the stranglehold, will ya?”

Castiel’s hands softened slightly around the leather, but not by very much. Dean briefly thought about commenting on it, but decided that doing so probably wouldn’t do much good anyway.

“Alright, now the car’s already in first gear right?” he explained instead. “So all you have to do is give the pedal a little bit of a nudge, slowly let the clutch up, and the car will start to move forward. You got it?”

“I… I think so.” The nervous flicker of the angel’s eyes, however, suggested the exact opposite. Dean figured it to be normal, remembering that Sam had worn the exact same expression the first time their father had put him behind the wheel, back in the day. Only Sam had been about twelve at the time, while Cas was… well, an adult, which was probably a good a word as any.

“Great.” Dean tried for a reassuring smile, but felt it come out more like a grimace. “Let’s give it a try.” He gestured to the near empty parking lot around them, which lay illuminated only by a few streetlights in the dark. “Just remember to always watch the road.”

Castiel swallowed hard, nodding, before he moved his hand to the key and turned on the ignition. The impala immediately took a huge, desperate leap forward, like an injured deer bouncing across the asphalt, sending Dean’s head smacking hard against the dashboard before the engine finally spluttered, choked and promptly died.

Dean groaned as he rubbed at his forehead where an angry, red swelling marked the spot where the interior had made contact with his face. It hurt, sure, but at the moment he couldn’t have cared less about such a trivial thing as a bruise. Oh, his poor Baby…!

“Apologies,” Castiel mumbled while staring in bewilderment at the wheel in his hands, as if he wasn’t quite sure if letting it go would be considered safe. Dean groaned anew, forcefully reminding himself that it was still a better start than the one Sammy had.

God, he just wished that they could have gotten hold of another car to do this in. Thirty minutes ago, when the angel (or whatever Castiel was nowadays) had expressed his wish for Dean to teach him how to drive, Dean’s first suggestion had been to wait until they got back to Bobby’s. There were plenty of old boneshakers riddled around Singer’s Salvage, and Dean would have gladly fixed one of them up in order to show Cas the ropes. Then Sam - the moronic meddler that he was - had somehow convinced him that it would be perfectly safe for Dean to take Cas out for a quick rundown in the Impala _tonight_. Just one trip around the parking lot, Sam had said, how bad could it possibly get? They had argued about it, naturally, but in the end the devastating force of his brother’s puppy eyes combined with Castiel’s disappointed face had been too much for Dean to take, and so, here they were. One angel and one hunter, going through the very first, very shaky and - in Dean’s opinion - highly nerve-wracking motions of how to start a car.

“It’s okay, Cas,” Dean promised while wincing inwardly at the thought of how the engine must have suffered from the other’s previous attempt to get it up and running. He took a deep, calming breath before continuing: “It’s just that you have to keep both the clutch _and_ the brake down when you turn the ignition on. C’mon, let’s try it again.”

Castiel obediently rearranged his feet according to Dean’s instructions, but Dean noticed with slight dread that Cas had to peek in order to make sure they ended up on the right pedals. He hastily reached for his seat belt and buckled himself up as Castiel’s fingers grasped around the key anew and turned it. He braced himself, should they go on another rodeo, but the Impala obediently rumbled to life beneath them, and Dean slowly let out a deeply held breath when the vehicle remained firmly on the ground. Castiel turned his face towards him, looking just as relieved as Dean felt at the success.

“See?” Dean smiled encouragingly. “That’s how you do it. Now give her a little bit of gas and slowly let the clutch up. And watch the road.”

Castiel’s face of total focus returned as he turned his gaze forward again, and the soft purr from the engine seared into a deafening roar when Cas pressed his foot down.

“Woah, easy, easy!” Dean winced, and the roar immediately dropped to a low growl.

“Better. Now the clutch. _Slowly_.”

The car began to creep forward, and a few seconds later they were rolling smoothly across the parking lot in a fluent, steady pace.

“There you go,” Dean commended, relaxing slightly in his seat. “This is good, you’re doing great.” The quick look Castiel sent him in return practically beamed with pride.

“Now let’s shift to next gear.”

The happy expression instantly melted off the angel’s face.

“Next gear?” he asked hesitantly, eyes flickering between Dean and the asphalt before them.

“Yeah, it’s just like first gear. Remember? You release the gas and press the clutch down, then shift and put your feet back to where they were. _Slowly._ ”

“That… doesn’t sound too hard.”

The impala slowed when Castiel did as he was told, and after a bit of fumbling with the handles by the wheel — which resulted in an accidental activation of the windshield wipers — Castiel managed to get the car into second gear. The vehicle spluttered and hacked, and Dean half expected the engine to die on them again, but then the sound smoothed out and they were back on track once more.

“That wasn’t so bad, now was it?” Dean asked, smirking and Castiel nodded, exhaling slowly.

“It’s actually not as demanding as I thought,” he agreed, once more turning his head towards Dean.

“The road, Cas,” Dean reminded. “And you can turn the wipers off now.”

“Oh.”

The wipers came to a screeching halt in the middle of the windshield.

“No, that’s not how you— Oh, hold on.” Dean reached across Castiel’s outstretched arms to adjust the lever that controlled the wipers, and he felt rather than saw Castiel’s perpetual, blue stare settle on his back as he did so. It was practically physical enough to make him capable of sensing the heat of it, as if the gaze was slowly burning its way straight through his clothing.

“Don’t look at me,” he reprimanded. “Look at the road.”

The car swiveled a bit when Castiel’s focus returned to the task at hand, and Dean straightened up again, discreetly readjusting his rumpled shirt while the fading heat of Castiel's gaze lingered at the back of his neck.

They soon reached the end of the dark parking lot, and Dean calmly instructed Castiel to turn the car around, which he did without incidents.

“How long did it take you to learn how to drive?” the angel asked, once they were facing the right direction again.

“You’re not going to be able to beat my time, Cas,” Dean assured him with a confident smirk.

“I take it that means you were a natural then?”

Dean’s smile widened and he shrugged, trying to act modest.

“Something like that,” he admitted.

“I assume that your father’s the one who taught you?”

“Yeah.” Dean nodded. “I mean, we did need someone to man the getaway car from time to time.”

“Well, he did a good job,” the angel concluded firmly. Dean snorted out an amused laugh, but didn’t comment on the subject further. His father had never been particularly happy with anything Dean did with the Impala; his driving least of all. He figured that Castiel didn’t need to know that, however, and so he remained quiet. Instead he allowed silence to lower itself over the front seat while Castiel focused on taking the car back to their original starting point. None of them said anything until they were back on the other side of the parking lot, where Dean methodically told Castiel to turn the engine off completely and then start it up again. To his great relief, there was a distinct decrease in the jumping department this time around.

“Try putting some speed into it,” he suggested. “And as you go, try to imagine that you’re on an actual road. Just stay clear of the parked cars, or we’ll have a lawsuit on our ass before either of us can spell the word ‘fender-bender’.”

All in all, Dean had to say that it went pretty well, though he noticed to his amusement that just like any human, Cas seemed to adopt the same bad habits as all rookie drivers throughout history had done. He practically leaned over the steering wheel, craning his head in order to see better as he drove. Every time he shifted gear, he had to sneak hurried glances at his feet in order to get the pedals right, which in turn made him constantly sway of their imaginary road for a few seconds before he abruptly straightened it up once he noticed where they were headed. The times he actually did watch the road his eyes were staring it down with alarming focus, and he still had a far too tight grip around the wheel than what was necessary. Altogether, however, he was doing just fine. Dean almost felt a bit proud.

“Okay,” Dean said when they came back to their starting point for the second time. “Hold on a minute. You don’t have to turn the ignition off.”

Castiel removed his hand from the key, which he had been about to turn when Dean told him not to, and watched as Dean pointed to the gear shift lever by the wheel.

“Now this part is going to be trickier,” Dean warned. “We’re going to go from second gear back down to first. It’s basically the same thing as going up, but you have to make sure the car's not going too fast when you do it.”

“What happens when the car goes too fast?” Castiel asked quietly, and Dean shrugged.

“Depending on the meter it could be the same as flooring the brakes. But we’re just stretching our training wheels here still, so you don’t have to worry. Just pop it into second gear and give it a try when you're ready.”

Twenty minutes later Dean suprisedly concluded that teaching Cas how to drive had been far easier than it had been teaching him how to use a cellphone. Once the angel had gotten past the initial nervousness of handling the car, things had been pure child’s play for him, and soon he was driving around the parking lot without any kinks whatsoever. He was still tense like a steel spring, and he more or less used the steering wheel as a head rest, but the joy that radiated off the angel as he sat behind the wheel was practically intoxicating. Dean soon found himself humming under his breath while thrumming a light hearted beat against his knee with his fingers, that’s how contagious it was. Who knew, maybe Sam hadn’t been too far off on this after all?

“Alright, Stig, you ready to get this show on the road?” he asked cheerfully, earning a suspicious frown from the angel by his side.

“What’s a Stig?” Castiel asked, as if he wasn’t sure if Dean had just insulted him or paid him a compliment, and Dean sighed, realizing that the joke was a goner.

“Nevermind, Cas. Just head for the exit. And turn the headlights on.”

“Headlights?”

Without a word, Dean reached over and flipped the little switch that controlled the equipment in question, and Castiel turned the car to the left and drove onto the road, heading south. There weren’t many other cars around, seeing as it was in the middle of the night, but that was probably for the best. After all, Castiel still had the car stuck in second gear, and they were pretty much just creeping along the road, going at a speed approximate to that of a senior citizen on a permobile.

“Aren’t you forgetting something?”

“What?” Castiel’s voice hitched with panic, and Dean rolled his eyes.

“Shifting,” he said pointedly. “You have to _shift_ , Cas.”

“Yes. Yes, of course. I knew that.”

On the other side of the window the windshield wipers sprang into action once more; Castiel’s hurry to oblige Dean’s instructions shining through as he fumbled with the controls. The angel gave an annoyed huff at this, though this time he didn’t have to worry about turning them off, as a soft patter on the glass soon announced the very first drops of water falling from the sky. It didn’t take long before the rain was literally pouring down all around them

The obscured vision made Castiel lean even further towards the window, nose practically pressing against the glass as he stared out into the haze with renewed focus. Dean sighed, and then gently reached out and pressed him back into his seat, fingers splayed firmly against the angel’s chest. Castiel’s gaze flickered down to stare at it, as if the limb had suddenly burst out of thin air, before quickly shooting back up at Dean, eyes unreadable and alarmingly intense. Dean quickly retracted his hand and cleared his throat.

“Eyes on the road there, buddy.”

Castiel’s gaze snapped back towards its proper heading and the angel’s Adam’s apple bobbed up and down as he swallowed hard. A good twenty seconds passed before Dean realized that he was still staring at the v-shaped notch just above the other’s collar, and then it was his turn to violently whip his eyes towards the dark mass of asphalt in front of them, where they belonged.  

_None of that shit,_ he ordered himself sternly. _Now is not a good time to get all flustered because of a fucking_ look _._

“Something to keep in mind is that the road sometimes get slippery when wet.” Dean cleared his throat again, feeling his stomach make a weird little twisty movement as he heard his voice crack on the word ‘slippery’.

”So keep the motions of the wheels small and monitored,” he continued, blabbering on just to fill the car with something other than awkward silence. ”So you don’t lose control of the car and end up skidding into oncoming traffic.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Castiel mumbled, eyes peering through the rain at the road ahead.

“Good.” Dean nodded, leaning back against the corner of the wide front seat with a nervous lick of his lips. He immediately noticed that his new position turned out to be much better, enabling him to supervise Castiel’s movements without having to keep his head turned all the time. He could already feel the strain in his neck from the exercises at the motel parking lot, and as he settled back against the window he let out a relieved sigh, feeling the tension ease up slightly.

A meeting car flashed their lights at them and Castiel squinted uncomfortably.

“That wasn’t very pleasant,” he gruffed. Dean snickered.

“You were shining him in the face, dude. You have to turn the headlights off when you meet another car, or they'll just take you for an asshole.”

Castiel glanced down onto the switch he had seen Dean flip before they left the parking lot, eyes moving in between the knob and the road as he studied it; as if it was a suspect in need of interrogation. Then he reached down and switched the headlights off once, then turned them back on, switched them off, and turned them on, like he was testing the feel of the button against his fingertip.

“Three times and you’re playing with it, you know, ” Dean smirked, watching Castiel’s hand halt just as it was about to flip the switch again.

Oh, so that one he got, huh?

“I’m not… playing with it,” Castiel objected, barely hiding a bashful glare in Dean’s direction. It was a look that made Dean’s ears heat up, and he quickly turned away, shaking the suggestive imagery his brain wanted to provide him with out of his head.

There was a time and a place, and right now, sitting next to the guy you jerk off to on a regular basis, thinking about _him_ jerking off, really wasn't it!

Trying his best not to think about what Castiel would look like while touching himself Dean turned back around, only to find said angel looking right at him, his head tilted in that oh, so infuriatingly annoying way; blue eyes holding a thousand questions, searching his for answers. Keeping his cool, Dean pointed two fingers at his eyes and then shifted them forward.

”Eyes. Road.” He instructed again, and Castiel obeyed, turning his head back to the road. However, this time he did so with obvious reluctance, as if he had found something in Dean’s expression that he wanted to study closer. Something which was far more interesting to him than the never changing panorama of illuminated asphalt in front of the car.

Dean did not like it when Cas did the head-tilting thing at him. The first time he had done that, the angel had been reading Dean’s mind in that god forsaken old barn, and Dean _definitely_ did not need that kind of attention at the moment. If Cas knew what he had been thinking of just now… What he so often thought about when the angel was near him…

Without his consent, his body decided to shiver violently at the thought. Thankfully, Cas seemed to misinterpret its cause.

“Don’t worry, Dean,” he assured him. “I think I've gotten the hang of this now.”

There was a short silence, and then Castiel turned towards him, a little smile playing in the corner of his mouth.

“I’m doing pretty well, aren’t I?” he asked, seeking Dean’s approval with a close to childlike enthusiasm. It was so pure and innocent that Dean found himself incapable of doing anything but to smile back. He tried not to think of the way his own eyes continuously tried to drop towards the arch of the other’s lips, locking onto the spot where they curved, ever so slightly upwards in the angel’s trademark almost-smile. His mouth went dry, imagining how that plump lower lip would feel like if he were to drag his teeth over it like—

The loud blare of a car horn and a sudden, blinding flow of approaching headlights washing over the car abruptly ripped Dean out of his musings.

“Son of a bitch!”

Launching forward, he grabbed hold of the wheel next to Castiel’s fingers and jerked, sending them skidding back into their own lane with a screech of tires as the truck that had almost rendered them a smeared out puddle on the road, roared past them with furiously flashing lights.

“Damn it, Cas, I told you to watch the—”

He cut himself off, blinking at the angel on the other side of the seat. Castiel was staring blankly in front of him and his hands were clutching the wheel so tightly Dean feared it was going to break from the pressure at any second. Tentatively, Dean reached out and placed his hand over the other’s fingers. Castiel jerked back as if he had been shot, shifting his frantic stare from the road on to Dean’s face.

“Okay, stop.” Dean took hold of the steering wheel and guided Castiel’s other hand to grab around the gear lever. “Cas, just stop. Pull over. Right there, there’s a small road, right up there. Just pull over, nice and easy.”

Dean wasn’t sure if the angel was coherent enough to hear him, but then his instructions finally seemed to get through as Castiel removed his foot from the gas pedal and put it on the brake instead. Good God, the guy hadn’t even had the presence of mind to hit the brakes...

The road they turned onto was small and dark, but well kept. They followed it until they reached a spot approximately 200 yards in, where the road widened far enough to let any eventual vehicles past. Once there, Dean ordered the angel to stop before he gently pried Castiel’s hands away from the wheel and put the car into park, turning the ignition off.

A silence, broken only by the rain which continued to patter against the roof of the Impala, lowered itself over the car. The wipers that once again had been halted in the middle of the windshield allowed thin streams of water to flow across the glass, painting winding shadows over the dashboard and the two men sitting behind it.

Dean turned towards Castiel, mouth already open to assure him that it was okay, that everything was fine, but the words died in his throat when he saw the way Castiel’s head was bent, hiding his face from view with shoulders drawn up tight around him. Dean could hear him breathe; not panicked breaths like before, but slow and steady. Deep breaths, as if he was bracing himself, and it was with shocking insight that Dean realized that the angel was waiting to be _scolded._ Castiel was waiting for Dean to yell at him for having been so reckless. For Dean to tell him what an _idiot_ he was for almost having gotten them both killed. The thought made Dean cringe.

“Hey,” he whispered, finding that his voice barely managed to carry his words properly. He canted his head, seeking eye contact, but Castiel’s head remained down, waiting.

“Cas, look at me.”

Castiel reluctantly raised his head, his mouth pulled into a thin line, and Dean could have whimpered at the tense look in the iridescent blue eyes that still refused to meet with his.

“I’m sorry, Dean,” Castiel grated. “It would seem that I am not as fit for driving as I first though.”

Cas sounded as if he was making an indifferent comment about the weather, his face an emotionless mask that conveyed absolutely nothing about what was going on inside his head. His eyes however, spoke millions as they stared down at the dashboard, focusing on the controls, unseeing and dark with guilt. Ashamed.

Dear God, Dean could have stabbed himself in the heart, right then and there.

“No,” he winced. “No, Cas, that’s not— Shit…” He looked down at his hands, feeling the frustration rise like bile in the back of his throat. “Cas, it was an accident. It happens to everyone.”

“I almost got you killed.”

“But you didn’t,” Dean objected. “Okay, you didn’t. I’m fine. We’re both _fine_.”

“I'm an angel,” Castiel said, his voice suddenly harsh. “My grace may be weakened and torn, but I should not be—” He cut himself off, struggling with the words.

“I should not have allowed that to happen,” he decided eventually. “I should have been the one to get us out of harm’s way, not you. I should have bent the world, made us be elsewhere, but I couldn't. I tried, but nothing happened, it wouldn't—”

Castiel’s voice cracked. He swallowed, his gaze dropping from the dashboard down to the hands lying immobile in his lap.

“I don’t think I should drive anymore.”

Dean had no idea how it happened. For the life of him, he could not recall the moment when his body decided to move without checking in with him first, but before he knew it he had moved forward, cupped Castiel’s chin in the palm of his hand and tilted it up to face him. Then he leaned in and pressed their lips together, feeling Castiel freeze up beneath his mouth with a silent gasp.

Needless to say, it wasn’t a hot kiss; not like the ones Dean so often had imagined in his head. This was chaste, closed and only consisted of dry, chapped lips touching nimbly without moving. And it didn’t last long.

Dean scrambled backwards in his seat in panic the very moment he realized what the hell he was doing, and he let go of Castiel’s face so abruptly one could have thought the angel had suddenly become molten hot beneath his touch.

That had not been okay. That had _so_ not been okay!

“Fuck…“ he breathed, the blood draining from his face. ”Fuck, Cas, I didn’t—   _Fuck…!_ ”

Castiel just stared at him.

For a moment his expression carried an uncanny familiarity with the look he had worn after the oncoming truck had almost turned them into roadkill, and then slowly — so slowly that Dean was able to make out every single shift of the muscles underneath the rough exterior of the angel's skin — he tilted his head and frowned. Dean swore that he _heard_ it when Castiel’s mind seeped into and entered his brain, picking it apart, and Dean was letting him. Oh, sweet God have mercy, Dean was letting him.

“Oh…”

That’s all Castiel said; a low, inscrutable sound that left the angel’s mouth in a whisper, and then Dean was suddenly pushed back, the punishing chill of the side window pressing in against his neck and the warmth of Castiel’s mouth smothering his lips. He gasped, loudly, and then Castiel had his tongue inside his mouth, making Dean’s eyes flutter shut with a meek groan. His hands clutched around the shoulders of the angel’s trench coat, clinging to it for dear life while Castiel’s tongue continued to do the most horrible, wonderful things to his mouth. When a warm hand suddenly pushed up beneath the edge of his t-shirt he moaned out loud as a violent shudder travelled through his limbs at the touch.

“Cas…” he groaned into the kiss, one of his hands moving down to push against the other’s shoulder. “Wait, hold on…”

The angel pulled away, leaving Dean panting hard while still pressed up against the car door. His hand on Dean’s skin, however, didn’t leave; fingers staying, splayed wide just below the human’s ribs.

Castiel’s eyes were almost luminescent in the dark; as if they projected some sort of faint, celestial light out into the world, and they regarded him silently, waiting for whatever he had to say. Observing.

“Cas…” Dean didn’t know where to start. Jesus, what had just happened? He had never thought that Castiel would— And now, just like that, out of nowhere...?

“Why?” he breathed, and that would simply have to do, because he found himself physically incapable of forming a single word after that.

Castiel looked at him, his head shifting ever so slowly to the right, and then the hand on Dean’s stomach left, sliding away and out from underneath the fabric. Dean mourned the loss of the angel’s touch, but followed the hand with his eyes as it slowly moved up his body to gently fold over the upper sleeve of his left arm; just over the spot where Dean could feel the scarred tissue of Castiel’s handprint tingle in response beneath the fabric.

“You know why.”

Dean stared at him, shocked, bewildered, and not just a little bit confused, but Castiel didn’t elaborate further. Instead, this time it was Castiel who leaned forward, giving Dean plenty of room to object, to push him away should he want to, but Dean didn’t. The slow brush of Castiel’s lips against his was reassuring; telling him that it was okay, that it was alright.

“I’ve wanted you…”

Dean failed to hold back a shudder when Castiel breathed out the words against his mouth. They sounded like a plea, as if Cas was asking him for permission instead of revealing a secret.

“For so long, I’ve watched you... Longed for you in every possible way…”

The hand over Dean’s arm tightened, fingers curling in desperate wonder, and Dean felt his head sear when the angel bent down and pressed a throaty moan against his neck.

“Dean...”

Responding, Dean grabbed hold of the hand gripping him ( _tight, gripped him tight_ ) and pushed it back down to the spot where his shirt had ridden up, exposing the skin of his stomach.

“Touch me.” It wasn’t a plea, because Dean Winchester didn’t beg, not ever. It was an order, hissed out from behind gritted teeth, and Castiel obliged eagerly. Narrow fingers dipped and grabbed hold of his hips so hard Dean was positive there would be angry bruises left behind later, but how the fuck was he supposed to care about that now? Now, when Castiel was on top of him, with that skillful tongue pushing in-between Dean’s lips once again, breathing his breath down the hunter’s lungs and making such deliciously sounding noises into their kiss they sent Dean’s head spiraling.

Castiel was kissing him like a drowning man gasped for breath; all wild desperation and hard, frantic gasps against the seam of their mouths. Dean's hands grappled for support, searching for something solid to ground himself, and his fingers found and gripped around the back of Castiel's trench coat, finally getting with the program.

With a rough tug Dean pulled the garment off Castiel’s shoulders, growling in frustration when the offensive piece of clothing bunched at the other’s elbows, preventing it from sliding down any further.

“Off…!” he hissed, biting down on Castiel’s lower lip at the same time as he tugged hard on the fabric, and Castiel pulled back with a sharp gasp and a surprised glare, momentarily startled by Dean’s sudden assault on his mouth.

For a few heart pounding seconds they were just staring each other down while a raw, primal tension settled in the air, accompanied only by the sound of harsh breaths and the steady fall of rain against the roof of the car. Then slowly, without breaking eye contact, Cas pulled the coat off all the way and tossed it into the backseat before he moved on to rid himself off the dark suit jacket he always wore underneath. His eyes were gleaming in the dusk; a challenge flickering in the luminous depths of cerulean blue. When his fingers began to tear at the knot of his tie his head tilted down ever so slightly, shoulders rising in challenge. Dean sucked in a slow, hissing breath through his teeth, because oh yeah, this was so _on_.

His own jacket came off with a snap, and then he more or less tore his t-shirt over his head, ignoring the slow pace Castiel had set. He launched himself forward, pushing the angel back before Castiel had even gotten around to slide the blue strip of his tie from around his neck.

The buttons of Castiel’s shirt were sent flying all over the dash seconds later when Dean’s fingers gripped the pristine white fabric, and tore it apart from the collar down while he straddled the angel in the driver’s seat. Lips latched onto and suckled at an exposed nipple, and Castiel threw his head back, thumping it against the window as he let out a loud, surprised moan. His fingers dug into Dean’s shoulders, his right hand pushing hard over the handprint on Dean’s arm, as if he was trying to leave another imprint on top of the old one.

Dean’s mouth curved into a pleased smirk upon hearing the sound spill from Castiel’s lips. He added a tug of teeth and swirl to his tongue around the nub in his mouth, victorious heat spreading through him when he heard the groan his actions caused to erupt over his head.

Then suddenly hands were in his hair, pulling him up and into another hungry clash of lips. Dean swatted at the intruding fingers with a low snarl, but didn’t release the other’s mouth as he deepened the kiss. Castiel huffed in response, and then the grip on Dean’s hair abruptly shifted to relocate itself onto Dean’s ass instead. Using the momentum, Castiel immediately pulled Dean closer, pushing his pelvis down at the same time as he himself ground up, and Dean pulled away from the kiss to bury his face in the crook of Castiel’s neck with a startled gasp when their bodies slotted up and began to move together.

It was not quite like fighting, but close enough. The rhythm was familiar, the beat so practiced that Dean didn’t even have to think about it, it was just _there._ Like cocking a shotgun or throwing a punch; the knowledge  already well-rehearsed and ready to be applied. Only there were no enemies here, and instead of fists and rock salt there were lips and tongues, groping hands and a slow, delicious grinding of bodies that didn’t leave any blood or ashes, but an intense, burning need that coiled tighter until Dean thought he was going to explode.

Castiel had his head tilted back, mouth open and panting with every roll of Dean’s hips, thrusting up to exploit as much friction as possible while looking down at Dean through fluttering eyelashes. A single glance at those hooded eyes caused delicious ripples of arousal to tear through Dean’s entire body, and he had to look away. Leaning his head against the angel’s shoulder he began to smother Castiel’s neck with suckling kisses, tasting the salty sheen of sweat upon the other man's skin.

Castiel’s arousal was evident through his darks slacks, and Dean’s jeans had already become close to painfully constricting, but every movement was still so intoxicatingly good that Dean didn’t want to break away to take either of them off. He was simply trying to fight the urge to move faster, to keep himself from grinding against Castiel’s pelvis until he creamed his pants like a teenager.

“Fuck...” he hissed. “Fuck, Cas, you have to slow down...”

“ _You_ slow down,” Castiel growled, but the hands clutching Dean’s ass didn’t let up, and the pace of Castiel’s hips didn’t falter. Dean’s right hand smoothed up the other’s neck and grabbed hold of the dark strands at the back of Castiel’s head, pulling viciously. He expected the angel to glare at him, but instead he felt how the angel’s hips snapped up violently beneath him and heard a low, throaty moan fall from Castiel’s wicked, plump lips. It was an unexpected, yet thoroughly welcome surprise; Dean had never figured that Castiel would be into hair pulling, but he wasn’t going to let that information go to waste.

“You like that, Cas?” He pulled again, this time swallowing down the other’s sounds with another kiss before pulling back again to slide a long, wet lick up the other’s jugular.

“You want me to pull your hair while you fuck me?” He growled against the skin just below the angel’s ear. “While I ride your cock right here in the car. Would you like that?”

The noise that tore out of Castiel’s throat at that was not, _could not,_ have been human, and the sound of it caused Dean’s skin to rise with goose bumps all over, from the top of his head to the tip of his toes.

“Yeah,” Dean moaned. “That’s what I thought…”

Supporting his weight on the elbow belonging to the hand tangled in Castiel’s hair, Dean moved his other hand down to unbutton his trousers before using both hands to more or less pry Castiel’s hands off his ass. He then pushed himself up higher in order to pull the rough denim of his left leg, grunting when he had to stop to tear his boot off first. The same procedure followed on his right leg, accompanied by a whole lot of swearing before his jeans were finally lying in a heap by the pedals along with his shoes.

“Give me your hand.” He ordered, and Castiel obediently raised his hand for Dean to grab hold of. Dean proceeded by bringing the hand to his mouth, flicking his tongue in between the digits and slickening them with saliva as he pushed them in and out of his mouth, one by one. Castiel’s eyes widened almost comically at the sight, pupils blown wide and dark as he stared at the human’s ministrations. By the time Dean had worked his fingers thoroughly wet and slippery, Castiel’s breaths were coming out in short, ragged gasps. Yet somehow, the angel still had enough coherency left to understand Dean’s intentions, because when Dean removed the last digit from his mouth and began guiding Castiel’s hand around to the back of his body, Castiel stopped him.

“That won’t be nearly enough,” he rasped, his voice raw, but firm. Dean tugged at the hand, groaning impatiently.

“I don’t care,” he growled, “C’mon, Cas, just get on with it.”

“I don’t want to hurt you.” Castiel’s brow creased with concern, and Dean rolled his eyes to the sky.

“You won’t,” he promised, and it was completely true. Dean liked the burn. Sometimes the burn was even the best part.

“Dean, I won’t let you—“

“Damnit, Cas, I’m— Fuck, I'm already stretched, okay?”

Castiel blinked, staring up at him in confusion. Dean glared, or at least he tried to, but he could feel his cheeks heat up the longer Castiel kept looking at him.

“How long ago?” the angel eventually asked, and Dean tried to act anything but embarrassed when he answered.

“How long ago do you think?” he snorted. “The motel shower was good, but it wasn’t _that_ good.”

Castiel looked down to where Dean’s hand was still grasping around his, before he slowly reached around Dean’s back, and Dean shuddered when the cool wetness of his own saliva grazed against his entrance.

“Push,” he ordered, closing his eyes. Castiel did as he was told, and Dean moaned when the first digit disappeared inside him without any problem whatsoever, his hands scrambling up to clench amongst the dark strands of Castiel’s hair. Below him he heard Castiel’s breath hitch, and then there was a second finger slotted up right next to the first one inside him. This time it was accompanied by a swift, stinging burn, and the discomfort must have showed on Dean’s face, because Castiel stilled and then narrowed his eyes at him.

“That hurt,” he said matter-of-factly, as if daring Dean to lie to him.

“It’s okay,” Dean gritted. ”Just keep going.”

“Dean, there’s another way.”

“Like what?” Dean snorted, “You’ve got a crate of lube lying around somewhere?”

“No, but I might be able to…” Castiel’s eyes narrowed even further, looking at Dean’s face as if he was trying to recall something. “… bend the rules a little.”

Dean opened his mouth to ask what the fuck he meant by that, but he was cut off by a warm, stirring sensation located somewhere around, but not directly associated with, the lower part of his body. It lasted for just a moment before it stopped, and Dean raised a quizzical brow at Castiel.

“Okay...?” he asked, “What the hell was that?”

Castiel didn’t answer, instead he just sent Dean a calculated glance from the corner of his eye before he moved his hand, thrusting a third finger inside the human above him before Dean even had the time to react.

Dean’s body arched with the overwhelming sensation of being filled to the core as he pushed back onto the digits shoved up inside him, and _shitfuckinghell_ did it feel good. He couldn’t speak, couldn’t form words, he just shook and mouthed incoherent sounds against the interior of the roof, digging his nails into the angel’s scalp in reciprocation while trying to remember how to breathe. There was no burn, no pain, but the stretch was oh, so deliriously tight, and he found that he barely had to spend any time adjusting to the intrusion, or even will his muscles to relax; it just _worked_. Damn, he had no idea what the hell Cas did, but to be perfectly honest, at the moment he didn’t give a shit.

He flinched when something warm and wet slotted up against his chest, but then he groaned, hips bucking and pelvis rolling as Castiel began to suckle on his right nipple, swirling the nub with the tip of his tongue. The fingers inside Dean shifted, rubbing against the inside of him in slow, calculated swipes and Dean gasped, pushing back down to meet with the movement. For a few heart wrenching moments he couldn’t decide whether he wanted to get away from, or increase the feeling of Castiel’s fingers, the sensation suddenly too overwhelming. Castiel’s tongue toyed with his chest, sending sparks flying in front of his eyes in sharp bursts, but the pressure against his prostate was like molten fire; how was he supposed to pick one over the other?

Only half aware of what he was doing, he let one of his hands smooth down the tendons of the angel’s neck before continuing down the exposed chest. His fingers skimmed over ribs and abs before finally coming to a rest just over Castiel’s crotch where he pushed his palm down and rubbed hard against the angel’s arousal through the slacks, earning him an appreciative groan in return. He wasted no time as he moved on to pop the button of the fly open next, and he nimbly slid his hand underneath the elastic band of the underwear beneath the moment they came into view.

Castiel keened into his chest, for a moment seemingly forgetting how to move or even breathe properly when Dean’s hand began to stroke his erection with fast, secure movements. When Dean rubbed the pad of his thumb over the head of Castiel’s cock, the angel’s entire body shook and fell back against the seat with a wounded wince, as if he had keeled over right then and there. Dean moaned when the fingers inside him began to spread and flex, as if Castiel had just now remembered that that’s what they were supposed to be doing.

Dean rolled his hips, pushing down to meet with the thrusts eagerly when one of the angel’s fingers grazed against his prostate, lighting up his nerve endings like a bonfire. He let out a startled hiss, his ministrations on Castiel’s dick stuttering to an abrupt halt.

“Shit…!”

Castiel looked up at him; a crease of confusion marring his brow as if he didn’t really understand what Dean’s exclamation was about, but then, while keeping Dean’s face under close observation, he slowly shifted his fingers again. This time Dean actually, honest to God, cried out against the ceiling, arching against the angel’s chest when the angle of the digits hit home a second time, with more force than before.

“I take it that is something you enjoy?” Castiel asked, and Dean gave the member in his hand a punishing squeeze in revenge for the mocking tone of the other’s voice.

“Well, you just try to remember that spot for later,” he gruffed as he let go of Castiel’s erection in favor of reaching back to grab around the angel’s hand and pull the fingers out. When he applied the guiding pressure to the other’s wrist, however, Castiel’s hand didn’t budge.

“I assure you, I won’t have to ‘try’.”

The foreboding timbre of Castiel’s voice had Dean’s gaze snapping back to the angel’s face, and the eyes that met with his as he did so made his insides twist and coil with jolts of arousal.

“You keep forgetting…” Castiel drawled, and the fingers that had been idle inside Dean up to that point suddenly pulled back, and then shoved back in so fast Dean saw lights flicker before his eyes.

“…that I made this body.” The motion was repeated and Dean’s hand scrambled to clutch around Castiel’s shoulder in a desperate attempt to support his weight when Castiel’s fingers continued to move in an increasingly quicker pace as he spoke, making Dean moan and writhe helplessly in his lap.

“I forged you back together with the very essence of me,” Castiel continued calmly. “I spent _months_ creating every _cell_ , every _muscle_ and every _nerve_ that’s holding this body together.” Each of the angel’s word got underlined with a new assault on the bundle of nerves inside Dean’s body, sending the heat of his blood soaring. By now, Dean was barely aware of the fact that he was hunched over the top of Castiel’s shoulder, clawing desperately at the other’s back and choking on his own breath while Cas’s voice seeped into his consciousness; like a warm stream of velvety heat that curled around the very core of his being.

“I pieced you back together with everything that I am. The knowledge I hold of this body is beyond the use of human perception; your brain could not even _begin_ to imagine the things I could do to you.”

Dean slumped down, his body shuddering and muscles twitching when Castiel’s fingers stilled inside him, the angel’s voice softening to a whisper.

“I will apply this knowledge to you, time and time again,” he promised. “I will make you _beg_ as I ruin you; as I make you mine and stake my claim on your soul for the rest of eternity. You will come to know the true nature of love, pleasure and worship, all by my hand. By my hand alone, I will take you apart and break you down to the very atoms of your existence before making you whole again. All these things, Dean, I will do to you… but only if you let me.”

Castiel pressed his lips against Dean’s neck, breathing out a slow, shaking breath against his skin.

“Please, Dean…” he whispered. “Please, let me.”

How the bastard could go from celestial warrior of heaven to pleading, sex-deprived angel in less than a breath Dean would never know, but somehow the shift of the other’s voice enabled Dean to gather up enough discipline to find his own again.

“You can do whatever you want…” he gasped, fingers sliding down to curl hard and desperately against Castiel’s bicep. “Take me, break me, I don’t care; as long as you just _stop talking and get on with it_.”

“Is that a yes?” Castiel asked.

“ _Yes_ … _!_ ” Dean groaned, and in response he heard Castiel let out a dark, lustful sound from the back of his throat, like a dam finally breaking. Dean steadied himself against the backrest, keeping his eyes firmly closed as he did so, because he was sure that if the expression on Castiel’s face even resembled the sound Dean had just heard, then he would end up losing his shit just by looking at it.

Dean tried not to whimper at the loss when Castiel finally removed his fingers from inside him. Not wanting to waste more time, the arousal already like a painful knot in the pit of his stomach, Dean quickly raised his hips and positioned himself. He licked his palm and grabbed around Castiel’s erection, pumping a few times to make sure it was slick before he circled his fingers around the base, moving the tip to trace around his entrance. Whatever mojo Cas had worked earlier would probably had allowed him to slide inside Dean without any resistance whatsoever, but Dean liked the way his teasing caused Castiel’s hands to curl into fists by his sides, impatient little breathing noises escaping through his parted lips. Had he not been so fucking eager himself he could probably have kept it up for a bit longer, but instead he braced himself against the backrest, one foot down the driver side footwell, and began to lower himself down.

Castiel’s right hands shot down and clutched around the edge of the backrest while his other lashed forward, grabbing Dean by the hip and halting him with a guttural moan that caused the hairs on Dean’s arms to stand in wild attention, and his cock to twitch hard against his stomach.

“Dean…! That’s—”

Seeing the haze cloud the angel’s eyes, Dean slapped the hand on his body away with a leer. He kept easing himself down, watching in satisfaction how Castiel’s hand fumbled and groped in the air to find something solid to hold on to as he did so. Revenge, Dean decided, was indeed sweet; and the little side order of angelic desperation sure didn’t hurt either. He rocked his hips slowly, moaning silently at the stiffness inside him, and quirked a smile when he heard the leather beneath Castiel’s fingers creak.

“Well, look at you, all talk and no play.” He mocked, trying to keep his own treacherous moan out of his voice. “This is how you intend to ravish me? Forgive me if I’m not impressed.”

Castiel’s eyes snapped open so fast Dean almost expected to hear a clash of lightning over their heads, and there it was, the look that told him that oh, this was about to get rou—

His line of thought was interrupted when Castiel abruptly grabbed him by the waist with both hands and pulled him down. The cry caused by the angel hitting his sweet spot straight on caught in his throat as he was immediately hoisted back up, and then shoved down once more.

Castiel rammed into him, over and over; a steady pounding against his prostate that had him reeling from the inside out, gasping and moaning breathlessly. Dean once again had to brace himself against the angel's shoulder, even if it didn't provide him with any sort of relief from the smouldering tidal wave of heat that washed through him with every thrust. One of his hands found refuge on top of the one bruising just below his ribs, and his fingers twitched and flexed as he held on for the ride, helpless and shamelessly lost in the intoxicating pleasure coursing through his veins, moaning and gasping out broken words on the verge of incoherency against the angel’s skin.

"Fuck, Cas…! Shit, don't you stop, don't you  _dare_  stop you son of a—ah…! Oh, yes, right there, right there, do it again… Oh,  _fuck,_ Cas!"

He wasn't going to last long, he knew that. It was all too fast and too ruthless to withstand, and he could already feel the heat pool in his stomach as it began to lick scorching tongues of fire up his spine. Castiel groaned has he guided Dean up and down, eyes half closed with panting sounds of pleasure falling from his lips in time with his breathing; all in all far too composed for Dean’s liking. He removed his hand from its perch on the angel's shoulder, and shoved it against the ceiling, using the new leverage to thrust himself down even harder. In return Castiel gasped out loud, and then released a groan so primal it made Dean's entire body flush and thrum as if wrecked by a fever.

It was over then, he knew it. The very moment Castiel's wall broke and dark, raspy moans mixed with throaty whimpers of need began to spill from his mouth in something that could have been English, but caused ripples of power in the air that no human language could, Dean knew that it was over. His grip tightened around the hand on his waist, urging it for attention.

"Cas… Cas, touch me…!"

Somehow he managed to gather the control it took for him to find Castiel's eyes through the haze, beacons of blue that swallowed him up and left him ablaze. He was shaking from the effort it took to hold the edge off long enough to make his voice heard, but it was too much to take,  _Castiel_  was too much.

"I wanna feel your hands on me when I come..." He ripped his hand away from Castiel's and braced it against the dashboard, feeling his body lose control as his hips bucked, fighting desperately to break the pace Castiel had set.

"Do it, Cas… Oh, fuck, touch me, I'm so— _Shit_ …! Please, do it now…! Oh, Cas, now,  _now_!"

He felt Castiel's hand close around him and stroke him once, twice, and then there was just  _nothing_.

Bright, scorching euphoria shot through him, and he could not remember if he moaned, screamed or made any sound at all when he splattered white all over the angel's naked chest. He heard Castiel moan his name — a single, broken gust of breath that snaked its way inside his very soul and lit it on fire all over again — as the fingers digging into his hip tightened almost painfully when Castiel came, hips jerking erratically as the angel coated his insides with a raucous groan.

Dean's hands fell down from the ceiling as he slumped against his lover's shoulder, limbs twitching and quivering in aftershock while his arms draped over Castiel's neck, the feeling of the other’s frantic heartbeats pounding against his chest. Castiel’s grip on his waist faltered and then let go, moving up to give a single, slow stroke down the line of his back in loving reassurance before leaving completely.

"Holy fuck…" Dean panted, feeling the languid heat slowly retract from his body, and he heard Castiel let out a soft chuckle. It took him a moment, but then Dean's mussed head slowly caught on to the wordplay his numbed psyche had come up with, and he grinned in spite of himself.

"An adequate depiction," Castiel noted, and Dean gave the angel's neck a shallow nip with his teeth.

"Shut up." He canted his hips, feeling Castiel slide out from inside him with a weak shudder. As he lowered himself down again, Dean got increasingly aware of the warm, sticky substance that was now trickling down the inside of his thigh, and he squawked.

"Aw, man… This mess is going to be such a bitch to clean up." He saw a hasty image of himself back at the motel, wiping off the seats with a cloth and a bucket of water with Sam snickering smugly behind him, but then he felt Castiel's lips curl against his ear.

"What mess?"

Dean's body shivered, feelings as if someone had just opened a draft, and then he sat up so straight he almost banged his head against the roof, staring incredulously down at both of their now meticulously clean bodies.

"Did you just use your angel-mojo to clean up after _sex_?" he asked with a sceptic quirk of his eyebrow, and in return he received a calm, almost-smile from the angel beneath him.

"Holy fucks do tend to have their privileges," Cas pointed out soberly and Dean couldn't have stopped himself from laughing at that, had he even wanted to.

Slumping down, he went back to resting his head against Castiel’s shoulder, arms wrapping around the other’s neck. His muscles ached, the activity they had just performed combined with the tight space of the front seat taking their toll on his body, but he didn’t want to move.

Like this, in the afterglow, it all felt like a dream, and suddenly he was terrified that if he moved away, or even made a sound, the dream would shatter around him like pieces of a broken mirror, hurling him back into harsh reality once again. The reality where Castiel didn’t know, or didn’t care about Dean’s feelings for him, where this would never have happened and Dean would never have been able to feel the taste of Castiel’s lips on his, or the touch of his hands on his skin.

His grip around Castiel’s neck tightened as dark, inky anxiety slowly began to seep into the content little light his orgasm had placed inside him. His brain was already running on all available cylinders, processing the things Castiel had said to him minutes before; all those wonderful, impossible promises that had made his heart flutter. Made him hope.

Had he meant those? That whole thing about longing for him, about loving him and wanting to claim him for himself…?  Or had it all been ramblings in the heat of the moment; pretty words that burned bright, but once the heat was over turned into nothing but scorched ashes?

The possibility was almost too painful to even consider, especially now when Dean knew what it would have been like to have it. To lose Castiel now… His heart could barely stand the thought.

“Stop it.”

Dean flinched, Castiel’s voice startling him.

“What?” he grunted, short and defensive out of reflex, but instead of the frustrated sigh he was expecting to get in return, Castiel let out an amused chuckle against the top of his head.

“What?” Dean repeated, pushing himself up on his elbows to glare down at the angel underneath him, and even though he didn’t want to admit it, he could still feel his cheeks heat up with embarrassment when he met the twinkling look from Castiel’s eyes.

“It truly is amazing,” Castiel smiled. “What incredibly ridiculous paths your brain decides to take some times.”

Dean’s jaw clenched, brow drawing together in a frown, but he didn’t know what to say. He wasn’t even sure he understood what the hell Cas was talking about. Castiel seemed to realize, because the cheerful lines on his face smoothed out as he slowly reached up and cupped Dean’s jaw in his hand.

“I love you,” he said solemnly, and if Dean thought he had been blushing before then that was nothing to compared to the heat spreading across his face when those three words made contact with his brain.

“I’ve loved you for so long, I can’t even remember when I first started,” Castiel continued, paying no head to Dean’s flushed state. “I love your soul, your heart, all they way down to the very foundations of your being. I will always fight for you, and stand by you, whether you ask it of me or not. I always have. And if you let me…” Castiel’s other hand reached down, fingers wrapping gently around Dean’s own.

“If you let me, I will continue to prove to you the many ways I am capable of loving you, until the day I die. Again,” he added with a contemplative frown, as an afterthought.

As if listening in from the outside, Dean heard himself let out a dazed, disbelieved chuckle.

He had absolutely no idea what to say. There were no words in his vocabulary that could ever measure up to what Castiel had just told him — damn, he wasn’t even sure there was a word in the entire _universe_ capable of that feat. It was just too much, too big and too raw for his mind to process all at once. His brain was crashing, blue screen loud and blaring before his inner vision, and in the daze he reached out, grappling for the only set of consecutive words still floating by the surface of his conscience, because…

“Holy fuck…”

Castiel’s lip quirked up, his head tilting down as he attempted to hide his smile from Dean’s wide, staring eyes.

“I believe we’ve already established that part, yes,” he smiled fondly. The thumb against Dean’s face rubbed over his cheekbone, a slow, tender swipe that made the air drain out of Dean’s lungs in a soft sigh.

“I would like to kiss you again,” Castiel said. “May I do that?”

Dean nodded, and Castiel pulled him down. The kiss was soft and tender; so unlike and yet exactly the same as the heated kisses they had shared before, and it rattled Dean down to the very bone.

“Cas…” he started, mouthing the name against Castiel’s lips. “I—“

“You don’t have to say it,” Castiel assured him, but Dean shook his head. He _needed_ to say it, for himself, out loud, or it wouldn’t count.

“I love you too,” he whispered, the words leaving him in a hurried rush, because if he tried to say them slower he was convinced that his own emotional state would end up choking him before he even got them out.

He shivered when he felt Castiel’s lips brush against his in another, final kiss before the angel pulled back, pushing their foreheads together.

Dean shivered, suddenly freezing cold, and he realized, from somewhere far outside of himself that his hands were shaking.

“I need my clothes,” he whispered reluctantly, and he felt Castiel’s head move against his own when the other nodded.

“Your brother is probably worried about us as well,” Castiel agreed, sitting up a little higher in his seat. “We’ve been gone for quite some time.”

Dean licked his lips, his throat suddenly dry. Fuck, he had forgotten all about Sam.

“Do you think… Like, do you think he’ll… About this thing, with you and me, I mean…?” Damnit, he was spluttering all over the place, and when he looked up Castiel had his brow raised at him in question.

“I believe Sam will be… surprised,” Castiel decided after a few seconds. “But not because of the reasons you have in mind. Mostly, I think his first comment will be something along the lines of ‘finally’.”

Dean opened his mouth, but then he shut it again with a snap when he remembered the insistent way his brother had forced him out into the car with Castiel earlier that very same evening. That little bastard…!

“Don’t be too hard on him,” Castiel soothed. “He wants you happy.”

Dean bit the inside of his cheek, and then he shrugged, turning to the floor to reclaim his discarded clothes.

“I guess you’re right…” he admitted, shaking his boxers loose from the heap that were his jeans. He wasn’t all too happy about Sam setting him up like that, but on the other hand, considering the way things had gone, he supposed he owed the meddling little brat.

He pulled his underwear and jeans on, and he had just finished dragging the t-shirt back down over his head when he glanced over and saw Castiel regard the button-less lapels of his white shirt in silence.

“Oh, right.” Dean grimaced. “Sorry about that.”

“There’s no problem,” Castiel reassured him, and in between one blink and the next, Castiel’s shirt was whole again, neatly buttoned up and with the blue tie already in place, twisted with the wrong side out as always.

“Cheater,” Dean snorted, shrugging his own leather jacket on.

Castiel smiled, and then he twisted around, opening the door. He had already gotten one foot outside the car when Dean caught on to what he was doing and grabbed hold of his elbow, stopping him.

“Hey, hey! Where do you think you’re going?”

Castiel looked back at him over his shoulder, confused.

“I was going to— “ he started, motioning in between Dean and the steering wheel of the car, but Dean shook his head, cutting him off.

“Oh, no you’re not,” he said, hauling the angel back inside. Castiel settled into the driver’s seat with a low ‘oumph’, looking at Dean who was already bent down to rummage across the floor in search of his shoes and socks.

“Dean,” he said slowly. “Are you sure about this? The last time, I—”

“Of course I’m sure,” Dean grumbled from the footwell before sitting back up, his boots now in a triumphant grip. “I told you, accidents happen to everyone.” He hesitated, but then he leaned in closer, giving Castiel a steady look.

“Listen, if it makes you feel better, both Sammy and I actually _did_ crash on our first tries,” he confided silently and Castiel’s eyes widened.

“Really?” he asked in disbelief, and Dean snorted out a laugh.

“Honest truth,” he promised. “I went into a heap of trash cans down the street from our motel, and Sam used a lamp post to lay a big, fat scratch all along the passenger side, bumper to bumper. But if you ever tell him I told you that, I’ll kick your ass. He thinks he’s the only one who screwed up, you understand?”

“I understand,” Castiel repeated earnestly, a barely contained smile twitching at the corner of his mouth.

“Good,” Dean nodded, pointing his chin to the key still dangling from the ignition. “Now get us back home before I starve to death. We still haven’t eaten anything tonight.”

Castiel nodded silently, and Dean noticed that the other was already sitting up taller in his seat, the focus from before back as he positioned his feet on the pedals and turned the key.

Dean strapped his boots on while they waited for the condensation to clear from the inside of the windows (apparently things had been a bit more steamy than they both had realized) and once they could see through the front and rear window once more, Dean turned towards Castiel, pointing to the shift lever by the steering wheel.

“Alright,” he said enthusiastically. “So this time around, we’re going to try out this neat little thing called _reversing_.”

  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Please leave a comment if you liked it ^^  
> Have a great day! <3


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